makeup. Maybe she troweled on five pounds of face paint when she went out, but he only saw her at work. Makeup made no sense in the damp, warm environment of the greenhouses. Her skin was so damned gorgeous, he thought she’d be silly to goop it up anyway.
The eyes, though. God. A guy could look into those hazel eyes, get lost and never find his way out. They were dark gold and mesmerizing, framed with a thick fringe of short lashes. Sometimes, talking to her, he could look and look and look in those eyes. Forget who he was, forget how different they were, forget how young she was.
“She doesn’t have the background to take on this kind of responsibility,” Nick said firmly.
“Oh? What kind of background is that?” Orson’s tone was wry. “She took Ludwig’s experiments and turned them completely around. On her own. Alone. She’s creative, bright, intuitive. She works harder than any three men. She’s responsible to the nth degree.”
“I know all that,” Nick said testily.
But Orson wasn’t through singing her praises. “Everybody loves her. She may not think of herself as a leader, but everyone else does. She’s always at the head of the pack, making the work fun for everyone else, bringing fresh ideas and spirit and excitement to every project she’s involved with.”
“Gramps, I know all that. And I like her, too. It’s just…” Nick wasn’t used to fumbling, but it was hard to find the right word to phrase his objections. Saying everyone liked Lucy was like saying the sky was blue. Of course they liked her. She was like a fresh breeze on a dark day, always upbeat, always finding the right thing to say. And she listened. She tilted her head just so, listening to whoever was speaking intently. She heard people. She didn’t just talk. She really heard people.
Like him.
One time—God knew how she’d gotten him talking—Lucy had definitely heard him.
Orson was still musing on the nature of the project. “Obviously there are areas we’d have to take on ourselves. I don’t know how many extra employees we’ll need to hire. And security is a critical concern—but you can take that on, can’t you, Nick? She’d be in charge of the growing, the plantings, the direct work. But you could oversee that, as well.”
“You don’t think I have enough to do?”
His grandfather regarded him patiently. “I think you’ll find time for this because you’re as excited about the idea as I am.”
“Maybe.”
“You thought it was an old man’s foolishness. That I was throwing away money on these experiments. That there wasn’t a chance any of them could possibly work.”
“Don’t rub it in.”
“But you were as thrilled as I was when the results came through. That chocolate was better quality than any we’ve ever produced. Better than any we’ve ever tasted from any company. Anywhere on the globe.”
“All right. All right. So I’m as excited as hell,” Nick said irritably.
Orson smiled, but then he turned serious. “It’s not just that I feel Lucy has earned the promotion and opportunity. I do think that. But also there are few people in this life that I completely trust. That girl has integrity. She wouldn’t pick up a dime on the street that wasn’t hers.”
“That’s partly why I think she’s too young. She’s naive. That kind of young. Still idealistic. All that shit.”
“So am I,” Orson said mildly.
Nick shot him a grin. “Yeah, but you’re hopeless. Besides, you’re my grandfather, so I can find a way to protect you whether you want me to or not.”
Orson smiled back, but then he simply looked thoughtfully at his grandson. “Do you have some personal reason you’re not comfortable with Lucy?”
“Of course not.” Nick easily and immediately put that question to bed, but he thought damn right he had a reason.
She was attracted to him. It was an embarrassment for her—a problem that cropped up the minute he showed up, that other people noticed, that made it hard for her to work with him. He didn’t want her hurt, and didn’t want to put her in any situation where he knew she could be hurt.
But explaining that to his grandfather would only make it more awkward for Lucy—and himself. The answer was simply to stay as far away from her as possible.
“Look, Gramps, put her in charge, if you want. Give her the promotion. But we’ve got a dozen irons in the fire over the next few months. I’ve got to be in Europe part of that time. So let me think on it, see if I can find someone else who can watch over her and the project.”
“Someone besides you.”
“Exactly.”
“We both know this is something that could revolutionize the chocolate industry. We just can’t put it in the hands of a stranger,” Orson said.
“I know. I agree.” It was a worry in itself that Lucy had been the one to come through with the miracle. If Nick had ever believed it could happen, he’d have hired massive, unprecedented security for the project from the get-go. But that was like fretting over spilled milk. “I’ll find the right person.”
“As long as it isn’t you,” Orson repeated again.
“It won’t be me,” Nick expressed with absolute certainty, then glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get rolling. Madris going to drive you to the doctor’s this afternoon?”
“Between you and Madris, someone’s hounding me nonstop. I’m sick of it.”
Nick turned away from the window completely, ready to concentrate completely on Orson now.
She was out of sight.
FOR A MONDAY that started out darn worrisome, it sure turned out fabulous. The instant Lucy got home, she dropped her jacket…on the floor. Peeled off her boots. Then, as an afterthought, chucked the rest of her clothes down to her underpants.
Yes. With the word promotion singing through her head like an aria, she danced through the house, flipping on the tube to the Oxygen channel, then boogie-wooing into the kitchen to pour herself a half glass from her dusty bottle of Gallo, then sipped it, still dancing. She started getting chilled from running around without clothes, but who cared?
Promotion. What a bubble-popping, orgasmic, rainbow-pretty word. Dollar signs paraded in her mind. Big, beautiful dollar signs. Now she’d have money to pay for the white carpeting. Money to upgrade the Civic. Money to pay off her Pottery Barn couch and the purple satin sheets and the museum print of the eagle.
She was gonna be…okay, not rich…but solvent, solvent, solvent.
And more to the point, oh, way, way, way more to the point…she was going to be a major player in the chocolate thing. It was actually going to be her baby. Seeing the advent of chocolate not dependent on rain forests. Developing the most fabulous chocolate products in the known universe. Creating products that no one else had—that no one else had even dreamed of.
Her.
Lucy.
